of so simple a message.

Growing impatient, Miss Burton took Nancy Dampier across the sunlit
courtyard to the wide old oak staircase, the escalier d'honneur, as it was
still called in the hotel, down which the Marquis de Saint Ange had
clattered when starting for Fontenoy.

When they were half-way up the Senator joined them, and a few moments later
when they had reached the second landing, he put a key in the lock of a
finely carved door, then he stood back, courteously, to allow his
daughter's guest to walk through into the small lobby which led to the
delightful suite of rooms which the Burtons always occupied during their
frequent visits to Paris.

Nancy uttered an exclamation of delight as she passed through into the
high-pitched, stately salon, whose windows overlooked one of those leafy
gardens which are still the pride of old Paris. "This is delightful!" she
exclaimed. "Who would ever have thought that they had such rooms as this in
the Hotel Saint Ange!"

"There are several of these suites," said Daisy Burton pleasantly. "In
fact, a good many French provincial people come up here, year after year,
for the winter."

While Mrs. Dampier and his daughter were exchanging these few words the
Senator remained silent. Then--"Is your brother gone out?" he
said abruptly.

"Yes, father. He went out about half an hour ago. But he said he'd be back
in ample time to take us out to luncheon. He thought we might like to go to